Twister
by AnomWriter
Summary: Based Series 4, episode 20. Eddie and Rachel.
1. Please don't follow

A/N: Been away for four years. I had writers block. I'm not sure what this is but I had an urge to write, and well it's a few words. Quite possibly a one shot but I could attempt to carry it on. Anywho …

**Twister**

Waterloo Road. The worst school in Rochdale. Waterloo Road. Forever an explicit in the local papers. Nothing new; one big _hell_** hole**.

_'Sorry'._

'So the custody thing. How is it going to work? I take the weekends, you take the rest?'. Eddie sat waiting patiently for Melissa's answer. It was quite literally mind-numbing – almost like watching paint dry. He was waiting for an attack, he just knew that this was not going to end well. She'd fought her way to the top already. Eddie was there, he was talking, he was putting _her_ through pain. What more could Melissa possibly want?

'I was thinking more like every other weekend?', her glare burned. The sarcastic nature echoed her voice and boy was he angry. She could see his anxiety as he sat with his hands now nurturing his head. However, what she could also see was Rachel facing away from the both of them, her body mirroring the direction of her stare. She was not there, not in the heated debate, not in the deserted classroom and definitely not wanting to admit her defeat.

'Melissa, you disappeared. Left without a word and now you expect me to be apart of this baby's life with involvement – yet you insist that I have minimal time?!', his pitch heightened as he almost shouted the last syllables. Her smirk was rising his temper and he was in no mood to play her games.

_'Sorry. I apologise for my actions.'_

'Eddie, I want the best for my child. You don't believe -', Melissa was cut short. Eddie most definitely was not having her throwing such accusations around. He was beyond the point, and she knew that. His body shook as his fists collided with the table making Rachel jump. He instantly regretted showing such force as for the first time, he saw the terror in her eyes. Attempting to close his hand over hers to show affection – to her only – he was bitterly rejected.

_'Sorry. I apologise for my actions. I allowed policies to fly over my head, fire's to run wild and my personal life to be the gossip of the school. I am sorry. I'd like to express my …'_

'Where are you going?', Melissa coldly asked. It was a fair judgement to conclude that she in fact did not care of her sister's actions and wished nothing more than for her to disappear. Rachel seen the sheer panic in Eddie's eyes, and regret washed over her. She couldn't leave, but she had to do it. Her sanity was no longer questionable.

'I'm sorry, I can't. I just, I have to leave.', stern but soft. The door was so close. It was the light she needed, the aftermath of a wild and demanding storm. At least it would give her the opportunity to run and cry, nobody would find her beneath the rubble. A sudden force threw her back, like a twister chasing to claim her life. Eddie was her twister. Sucking the energy from her, stopping her leaving but somehow keeping her beneath his soul. She wriggled free from him. Turning to leave, she muttered a few simple words.

'Please don't, just don't follow me'.


	2. Close the box

Twister

Waterloo Road. The worst school in Rochdale. Waterloo Road. Forever an explicit in the local papers. Nothing new; one big _hell_** hole**.

White walls, crisp lighting and one of those really hideous green plants. This was not how she wanted to spend her Tuesday afternoon. A mild breeze, yet the sun was out and she was here. Bloody fantastic. Really, she could not think of anything better to be doing. This was her first appointment with Dr. Williams, and my god, she wanted to leave already.

'I don't really know where to begin', her tone was set out to show exhaustion. She really didn't know where to start. Crossing her legs, and folding her arms, she sighed.

'I feel like I've lost something. Only I know it'll never be found, and its gone forever'. Disappointment. It spread along the width of her face like wildfire. Dr. Williams studied her closely; defensive, she was almost definitely defensive. She wasn't going to let him in, so he'd have to peck away at the surface until he struck gold. Still, it was going to be hard work. He could see that.

'Why is this?', he asked as he scribbled along the lines of his fresh notebook. He was obviously writing nothing but rubbish. She was not a fan of this psychological nonsense – not when it came to her anyway. She watched as his brow creased as he hurried to finish what looked like a paragraph.

'It's almost as if I've lost it on purpose .. although I haven't. Do you understand? How do you cope with losing something that'll never be found?'. He almost laughed at her question. However he did not, as that would have been hugely inappropriate. Taking the time to rest his pen against the page of his notebook, he looked directly at her and replied, 'You simply replace it'.

'But it can't be replaced.', she remained sharp and clean with her words. It almost frightened him. He wasn't looking into someone's eyes; he wasn't even looking at a life. She looked so emotionless almost lifeless as you will. He'd never in his 35 years of practise had a case like this.

'Then you forget. You take time to mourn and then you simply move on.', without even noticing, he was mirroring her tone. Is that what she did to people? Did she make people question every value and action in life, and simply make others feel lifeless. Surely not. The sad truth is, if Dr. Williams were to dive deep enough he'd find an empty soul who's spent far too long putting the happiness of others before herself.

Squinting her eyes and bringing her head to his level, she answered, 'How can you mourn something when it is still alive?'. Theoretically she was correct; how was it possible? This was only a Tuesday afternoon, and it was far too much already. He sat for a while, reading and closely observing her. When he'd finally thought of his reasoning, he entwined his fingers and cleared his throat. 'You have to mourn in order to feel refreshed. Do you understand? You say you've lost someone -'. His answer was short-lived as she was quick to interrupt.

'Something, not someone.'

He studied her, but got nothing. It was somewhat frustrating not being able to read someone. For once in his life, he'd found a case that was worth turning slightly nuts for. He knew it wasn't 'something', it was 'someone'. Someone had made her this way. 'Right. Something. You say you've lost something and it cannot be found, so why waste time looking for it. Why hurt yourself looking? The pain will eat away at you, frustrate you and in the end it will drive you crazy. Close the box.'.

Her body shot up, and she paced the room in the time of around five seconds. This had definitely hit home. 'But what if I don't want to close the box? What if closing the box symbolises the ending?'

'It's not the ending. Do you know why?', her body came to an halt. How could it not be the ending, if you are to close something? Slightly intrigued by his question, she sat once again and replied, 'Enlighten me'.

'Because you start a new box. You start a new chapter. Do you ever see a book with only one chapter? Nobody ever has just one box, Rachel. The pain? It'll hurt, but it will subside'.


End file.
